Occupational Hazards
by KrolenaT
Summary: The shapeshifter had enough. After decades of running from hunters and having his family and friends exterminated by them, he's had more than enough. He started plotting his revenge against human hunters. And on the top of his To-Kill list? The Winchesters. Will Sam and Dean be able to escape unscathed? (Set in S6- 2 weeks after Sam got his soul back)
1. Chapter 1

"Two missing hikers in Idaho's wilderness? Sounds interesting?" Dean looked up from the papers.

"Nah. There was a huge storm last week, lasted for days. They're probably 'missing' missing," Sam slid the pump out of the impala and hung it back onto the fuel dispenser.

"Okay," Dean went back to scanning the paper, "Mmmm...how about this: Man mauled by animal in Florida."

"Could be a bear," Sam shrugged.

"Or it could be something else."

"Dean. C'mon, give me that," Sam stuck his hand out for the paper, "Go pay for the gas."

Sam was sure that there was something more solid a case than those Dean had announced. He was sure he saw it...back in the car...

There!

'Man killed in locked room mystery'

Right smack in the middle of the missing hunter article and mauled man piece. What was Dean doing? Ever since Sam got his soul back, they had been taking it way too easy. Both of them had spent the first week at Bobby's doing nothing really, and then there was last week. They spent the last week chasing their tails, working on hunts which were not really there. Now, Dean was bent on sending them on another wild goose chase.

How exactly can he prove to Dean that he was 100%? The wall which Death had put up in his mind was holding strong. And he was fine, really.

Dean, on the other hand. Sam was aware of what he had done to his brother while being a soulless, stone cold killer. That was why he had put up with Dean's babying for the past two week. But now was time to do some real work, kill some evil monsters and try to make up for whatever Soulless Sam had done.

Sam watched in the passenger seat as Dean emerged from the store, carrying a bag of what could only be food and chewing on a chocolate bar.

"Hey, got you some food," Dean threw the bag onto Sam's lap, "So? Find anything?"

"Actually yes," Sam held the article out.

"Ah. That. Umm...Bobby's already got someone on it," Dean said sheepishly.

"What? How did- Wait. Did you-," Sam had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, or he was going to explode on his brother.

Dean must have noticed the article, and called Bobby while he was in the store.

"Then what are we supposed to do now?" Sam managed as calmly as he could.

"Well, this town seems nice, maybe we could uh-" Dean was interrupted by a text received on his phone.

"Huh," Dean frowned.

"What?"

Dean tossed his phone over to Sam and started pulling out of the gas station, "Looks like we're going to Colorado."

Sam read the text message from someone named Stan:

'NEED YOUR HELP WITH A HUNT. COME ASAP.'

Sam was glad that they finally had something to do, somewhere to go to, but the message seemed suspiciously vague. Who was this Stan?

"So we're going? Just like that. You trust this Stan guy that much?" Sam asked.

Dean sighed, "I don't have a choice Sammy. Stan saved my hide once, and I owed him. Now he's collecting. Besides, you were itching for something to kill weren't you?"

"When was this? How come I didn't know about it?"

"It was a long time ago. When you were, you know, in school," Dean didn't elaborate further.

Oh. Okay. Sam knew that Dean was tight-lipped about the hunts he had went on while Sam was at Stanford. Sam understood. Dean would never admit it, but after all these years, he was still hurt by Sam leaving.

"He didn't say anything else? Like, what exactly did he want? What is he hunting? And why are we going to Colorado? Does he stay there?"

"Sam! What's up with the twenty questions man! We'll find out when we get there!" Dean snapped.

"Right. I'm just...never mind," Sam sighed and turned away to look at the passing trees.

"What?!" Dean groaned.

"Nothing. I just have a bad feeling about this," Sam admitted.

"We'll just see what happens, okay? Quit pouting," Dean placated.

He was NOT pouting. But Sam knew it was useless to argue with Dean, he would never win.

* * *

><p>The drive to Stan's place was peaceful, after Sam stopped with his twenty questions. By the time they reached their destination, it was already evening. Dean was not sure if this was the best idea, but he had to come. Stan had been there when John wasn't. If not for Stan, Dean would have bled out on some cheap motel bed.<p>

Dean had been a hunter long enough to trust his own instincts, and he certainly did not doubt Sam's. If his baby brother said that something felt wrong, then it most certainly is. They just had to be more careful on this. Although Sam's uncertainty may be caused by the fact that Sam did not know Stan.

"Sammy, wake up!" Dean punched his brother's arm.

"The f...Ow! Dean!" Sam shot up from his slumped position, "Can't you just wake me up like a normal person?"

"What are you talking about? I was being a normal big brother. Get your ass out of the car, we're here."

"No, you were being a dick. Where's here?" Sam looked around the dark forest, "He lives in the forest? What a recluse."

"Aren't all hunters? He has a small cabin, but we'll have to go on foot from here. It's about two hours out," Dean checked the flashlights and handed Sam one.

They picked up their weapons and duffel from the trunk, and proceeded on their trek.

The sky was clear tonight, and Dean marvelled at the starry sky as they walked. He could stare at the stars for hours, and that was exactly what Sam and him had done in the past. Laid on the impala and just watched the unpolluted night sky until they fell asleep.

"Dean, can you please watch where you're going? Do you want to trip over some root and break your ankle?"

Oh how had Dean missed his brother's nagging. Before this, he may have lost his temper with his little brother, and he had, countless times. Sam could be such a grandmother at times. 'Eat your vegetables, Dean'; 'Stop drinking so much, Dean'; 'Get your socks off my face, Dean'. But after four months of grieving his brother's death, and a few weeks of soulless Sam's apathy; he was more than happy to let Sam rant about anything for however long he wanted to.

"I'm agile as a cat, Sam. You're the klutz."

"Shut up," Sam smiled.

"There! Just up ahead," Dean pointed to the lighted cabin and sped up, "I hope he prepared dinner. I'm starving."

Dean still remembered how good Stan's cooking was.

"Dean! Wait! What's our plan?"

"What plan?"

"What if it's a trap?"

"By who? Sam-" Dean stopped when he saw the scowl on Sam's face, "C'mon man, you think we can't handle a trap? We're professionals."

"Dean!"

"Alright, alright. On my guard, roger that," Dean nodded.

They crept towards the lone cabin and split up to give the place a once-over.

"See. Nothing. Not a trap," Dean smirked at Sam's glare, "on the outside."

Dean loved teasing his brother. Even though he was surprised at Sam's strong feelings towards this, he kept his hand on his gun when he knocked on the door.

Stan opened the door after a few moments, "Winchester! Thanks for coming."

"Yeah, Stan nice to see you too. This is my brother, Sam."

"Ah Sam Winchester. Heard a lot about you. C'mon in then," Stan ushered them into his home.

The warm interior was a stark contrast to the chilly winter air. Dean dropped onto the couch with a contented sigh and shed his jacket. Sam sat down with more control and shot his brother a look. Right, they were supposed to be on their guard. But he was cold, and hungry, and tired. Besides, nothing seemed out of place.

"So, you two must be hungry after the long walk. I made some soup," Stan announced.

"Sure. I'm starving," Dean rubbed his hands together.

* * *

><p>As Stan disappeared into the kitchen, Sam took the opportunity to check out living room. Everything seemed to be fine, but he just could not shake this feeling. There was a spot on the wall where the plaster was cracked, but it could have been anything.<p>

Sam wanted to ask Dean for his opinion but Dean was lying on the couch with his eyes closed. Sam punched his brother's arm in revenge.

"What!" Dean's eyes snapped open.

Seeing Dean's fatigued gaze made Sam feel incredibly guilty. Dean was the one who drove for the entire day, and Sam was the one who snoozed in the car for a good part of the day.

"Nothing, I thought I found something."

Dean seemed like he was about to retort when Stan re-appeared with two bowls of steaming soup. The soup smelled amazing, and Sam's stomach growled in response.

"Thanks," Sam took his bowl from the man and sighed when he saw Dean gulp down his dinner.

He couldn't help but notice the casual watch Stan had on both of them. It made him a little uneasy. Maybe the soup was a test, like Bobby's beer. Holy water. Maybe Stan was as wary of them as they had been of him.

"So uh, the hunt, how can we help?" Dean asked, "What are you hunting anyway?"

"Oh yes, of course. The hunt. Murderers, that's what I'm hunting," Stan crossed his arms, "and I need to stop them."

"Mmm...that's usually it," Dean rubbed at his eyes.

Sam let out a yawn after he cleaned up his bowl. The mushroom soup was delicious. After his stomach was filled, his brain demanded for sleep. That was odd, he had slept in the impala and it was only 10 o'clock.

Stan continued and started to pace the room, "Murderers which didn't care if their victims were guilty or innocent. All they knew was to purge the earth of anyone who was different, different from them."

"Dean?" Sam was concerned about how his brother was clearly having problems trying to stay awake.

* * *

><p>Something was wrong.<p>

He knew this feeling.

"Son of a bitch. What did you..."

Dean tried to stand up, but the next thing he knew he was on the ground and the room was spinning dizzily.

He'd been roofied before. He knew this feeling.

Sam started shouting something but he was too far gone to make out any words.

* * *

><p>"Dean!"<p>

Sam watched in horror as Dean went down.

He knew it! This was most definitely a trap, and it would not be long before he joined Dean in Lala-land.

But why?

"Stan?" Sam glared daggers at the smirking man, "not Stan."

"Aren't you the sharp one. Uh uh. Sit back down unless you want me to put a bullet through your brother's skull," Stan drew his gun and pointed it at Dean.

"Who are you?" Sam felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, "Where's Stan?"

"Oh don't worry about that old bastard. Worry about yourself."

* * *

><p><strong>And the trouble starts...<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell," Sam woke to see his own face staring back at him.

The last thing he remembered was Stan pointing a gun at his brother. Now, he was tied up into a chair with a shapeshifter in the room.

"Morning, Sam. So you were soulless huh?" the other Sam shook his head, "Doesn't matter. I'm still going to make you and your brother pay for what you did. And I'm going to enjoy every minute of this."

"Who are you?" He reckoned that the shifter must have crossed paths with soulless Sam.

Even though he had no memory of it, Sam had a pretty good idea of what went down back then.

"Oh so now you care for who I am? Well, you didn't seemed to give a damn when you executed my wife and my child in front of me!" the Shifter grabbed Sam's jaw and spat in his face.

"Look, it's me you want. Let Dean go," Sam pleaded.

"Funny how that was the exact same thing I had said back then," the Shifter sneered, "Sit tight Sam, and enjoy the show."

Shifter tied a gag around his mouth and blindfolded him. Sam pulled hard at his restraints when he heard footsteps leaving the room.

"No! Dean!" Sam tried to shout.

* * *

><p>Goddamnit, how much did he had to drink last night?<p>

Dean woke up with a monster hangover, in an familiar room. He had been here before...a long time ago. He wrecked his brain for answers but all he got in return was a splitting headache.

"Argh," Dean shivered.

The room was chilly and he was only wearing his t-shirt.

Where was he jacket? Where was his duffel? Where was Sam?

They were trekking in the woods...to get to somewhere.

Umm...

Dean pushed himself up from the bed and held onto the wall while he waited for the dizziness to fade away.

He noticed the picture framed on the wall beside him. Stan Muller?

They were at Stan's house. Right, the older hunter had asked for their help. But Dean had no recollection of them arriving at the cabin.

Sam. He had to look for Sam.

This was not like him, Dean never drank so much on a job.

Dean tried the only door in the room, but it was locked. Okay...why would he be locked inside the...

There was a loud click and the door swung open. Dean's coordination and balance was still screwed to hell, and he was knocked onto the ground.

"Dean?"

Dean let out a breath of relief when he saw that it was only Sam.

"Sam! What happened last night?" Dean gave up trying to get upright when Sam didn't bother to help him.

"We have to talk, Dean."

Talking was one of the last things he wanted to do at the moment but Dean nodded anyway. It seemed important.

"I'm starting to remember things. The things which I did when I was without a soul," Sam started.

"What?" Dean sobered up immediately.

Sam was not supposed to remember. It was all supposed to be kept behind the Great Wall of Sam which Death had put up in his mind. Did that mean that the wall was crumbling? What would that mean for Sam? Would he be alright? But he seemed fine now...

"The things I did...the people I've killed...they didn't deserve to die."

Dean sighed, "Sam it wasn't you. Not your fault."

"Damn right it wasn't my fault!" Sam was suddenly inches away from Dean, "It was yours."

"What?"

"You heard me. This," Sam waved his hand around the room and jabbed his finger at Dean's chest, "This is all your fault."

Saying that Dean was confused is an understatement.

"If you had let me die in Cold Oak, none of this would have happened."

"Sam..."

"Just shut up for a moment will you," Sam shook his head, "If you had let me die, you wouldn't have gone to hell and started the apocalypse. And I wouldn't have to clean up your mess by jumping into the pit. Now you see how this is all your fault? All those innocent souls which I had killed...it's all on you."

"Why are you saying this," Dean muttered, too shocked to even process what was happening.

The next thing he knew, he was pinned on the ground with Sam holding a knife to his throat, "I'd be better off without you."

Dean struggled to free himself from his brother, but he was not willing to hurt Sam.

Sam was fine just yesterday. This must be some kind of curse...or a siren or a demon. Dean managed to knock the knife off Sam's hand but before he could restraint his brother, Sam's fist met with his face.

After a few more punches, Dean was seeing at least three Sams. But he was quite sure that this was not his brother, at least Sam was not in control of his body. It must be whatever Stan was hunting. Dean grabbed at anything he could, trying to hold onto consciousness. His hand came off Sam's head with a slimy squelch and his eyes widened when he realised that he was holding onto a piece of Sam's ear.

Shifter. Ugh, he hated those things with a vengeance.

Dean was about to throw his own punches when the shifter got a hold on his blade again.

* * *

><p>Sam heard the whole monologue which the shifter gave to his brother. It was painful to hear his own voice taunting Dean, and he just hoped that Dean figured it out before it was too late.<p>

Dean should know that Sam would never say those things to him. But then Sam realised he did. He had done this before, more than once: when they were on the mad psychiatrist hunt and when Sam was drinking demon blood.

He heard Dean's small voice, "Why are you saying this."

"I'd be better off without you."

There was a grunt, and then scuffling coming from the room.

Dean!

Sam had rubbed his wrists raw from struggling in the restraints, but they were not loosening any.

Damn it! Dean!

Sam slammed his head against the wall in frustration. He thought about calling out for Castiel for help, but realised that the angel would not be able to find them. Sam did not know where exactly they were, he only knew that they were in Colorado.

He could hear more fighting, and then he heard Dean cry out in pain before everything went silent again.

Sam's heart was pounding hard against his chest. It was excruciating not knowing what was happening and whether Dean was okay. He turned his head towards the sound of someone walking into the room.

The cloth around his mouth was untied and it fell away onto his lap, but the blindfold remained still on.

"Dean?"

"If you say so," it was Dean's voice.

"You son of a bitch! If you hurt my brother," Sam yelled.

"Ooops. Too late."

Sam felt a needle enter the crook of his arm and he knew no more.


End file.
